


The Distortion, The Liar

by Dragonsandducks



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, i want to know more about the michaels, slight AU but you can't prove anything, so i guess i'll tell their story myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21961711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonsandducks/pseuds/Dragonsandducks
Summary: There is a single moment that lasts an hour.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	The Distortion, The Liar

**Author's Note:**

> i've just gotten past episode 101 and i want to know more about michael shelley! so here!
> 
> i'm american and dont know about england soooooo... yeah

There is a single moment that lasts an hour. 

And it (the thing he can't see, can't know, it is everywhere but it doesn't exist, it may not be real or maybe it is?) asks him a question without words. And Michael thinks he must be going insane because he answers. 

It asks him who he is.

"Michael Shelley," he says, and he feels like his voice should shake but it doesn't. 

It asks where he came from.

"I... I'm from London."

It asks _who_ it came from. 

"My parents? Richard and Leslie Shelley," he says, and he doesn't know if he's answering the question right or not. 

It asks what they were like. 

Michael answers without wanting to. "I mean... They were kind of distant. My dad died a— a while ago, and my mum, well, she— she was an alcoholic." He doesn't want to tell it, he doesn't he doesn't he can't—

It asks him to lie. 

"I... Sorry?"

_Lie._

"I— I have a sister."

It wants _more_. 

"Her name is Annie," he says, plucking the name from a childhood friend. "She's younger than me. Just out of college. She works as a writer at a little paper in our hometown— Lives with her boyfriend, his name is Ryan, we went to high school together."

He doesn't even know if he's lying or not, not anymore. 

It asks him about Gertrude. 

"She's just an old lady." The lying is coming easier now. If he even is lying. "She's— A good person." Even as he says it he feels his teeth gritting, his hands in fists so tight that his knuckles have gone white. "She would never hurt me." 

He hurts now. He has been hurting for however long he's been here, in the non-existence. Hours? Days? Only a minute? He doesn't— his brain is— everything feels fake and— it's lying to him— he's lying to it—

It asks more. It asks him and he lies, he _lies_ , and he is beginning to relish it.

"I got drunk, once, at a party—"

"My mother is dead—"

"I once robbed my best friend—"

It's all a lie. It's all true. He _feels_ , though, like he's lying, and he knows it is smiling. 

In an excruciating moment of pain, of being ripped apart and sewn back together with someone else's pieces, he recreates himself in every way. 

It drops the "Shelley."

Just Michael is fine.


End file.
